


Monster Mash (New Moon)

by fluffy_papaya



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: 'hey what if brock was evil', High School AU, M/M, au au, do not need to read previous novel to understand, monster au, you know it's fantasy cause the parents listen to their kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffy_papaya/pseuds/fluffy_papaya
Summary: Things that go bump in the night always come out in the light of the full moon; with teeth that bite and claws that scratch. Demons dance with angels and sirens sing their songs, and every full moon things always seem to go wrong.A story about one Brock Barrus as he struggles with the... quirky town and it's inhabitants.
Relationships: Anthony | BigJigglyPanda/Ryan | Ohmwrecker, Brock Barrus/Brian Hanby, Brock Barrus/Death, Brock Barrus/Luke Patterson, Evan Fong/Jonathan | H2ODelirious/Tyler | I AM WILDCAT, Evan Fong/Tyler | I AM WILDCAT
Comments: 26
Kudos: 32





	1. Werewolves of Nightshade

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome.  
> Aus of Aus are always fun, are they not?

The first week of Senior Year was a nightmare for one Brock Barrus. Constant headaches made concentrating on work nearly impossible, and not having too many friends to talk to made classes lonely and lunches kind of sad. The only thing Brock had to look forward to were his night shifts down at the retro diner he worked at; Flo's. This Friday was no exception, and Brock was eager to trade in the bleak concrete walls of Study Hall for the black and white checkered floors he had come to love. 

The final bell rang and he practically jogged to the parking lot, face lighting up when he saw his familiar bulky yellow car parked on the far end of the Senior Lot. He was quick to buckle up and book it before the buses were loaded up, driving the short distance from Nightshade High School down to his work with minimal traffic, all while Dolly Parton played loudly on the radio.

He made it to the diner in record time- not that it mattered, since he was an hour early for his shift anyways.

Walking through the double doors into the place was always like a dream; the sweet scent of malt and french fries that always hung in the air, the crackling music that always came from Flo- the odd Jukebox and namesake of the diner. The booths were red with shiny chrome finish, and the counter was always occupied by a friendly face. Brock said hi to Mr. Sark when he walked in, stopping briefly to talk to his boss.

“You don't have to come in early every day, you know that right?” Sark asked with a laugh, like they had this conversation everyday. Brock smiled sadly and shrugged in response, calling out to the man as he headed into the backroom.

“Not like I have anything else to do!”

He got changed quickly and headed to the front to pick out a section for tonight's shift, snagging the best section and leaving the rest for his other two coworkers to bicker over once they got in (late, most likely. It bugged the hell out of him but who was he to complain?).

He picked up a few tables from Sark and cleaned before the dinner rush, gritting his teeth to whatever song Flo was playing. Another hour and the place was getting pretty full, occupied mostly with kids from their highschool, most of them Brock recognized, none of them recognized him though.

Jon and Ohm hurried through the front doors looking a bit sheepish as being late (again, seriously?) as they both rushed to the back to get changed and start work. 

“Ohm- don't forget your sunglasses this time!” Brock called to the back, arms laden with trays and plates. He heard nothing and huffed to himself before he went back to his tables. Dropped off food at table 13, then drinks for 19, and he still needed to greet table 11. He walked past a large party- Jon's friends, causing a ruckus as they waited for the stuttering waiter to come out and greet them.

He greeted table 11 with a smile, passing back by Jon's table, overhearing one of the kids- " _ Sorry you have to deal with us. _ " before he passed behind the counter to stick the orders to the rack. Table 13 was an elderly couple who cooed at him and left him a big tip before sliding out of their booth, and he smiled down at the small heart they put on the receipt.

It was nice to see kindness in humanity.

The town of Nightshade they lived in was a strange place, and Brock only knew because of his coworkers really. He probably found out when Ohm had accidentally turned their boss into stone during close, and had frantically explained he was a  _ gorgon _ while they tried to get Sark back to his regular self.

After that interaction, it was hard to shake the image of stone cold eyes out of his head. Who deserved to have that happen to them?

He managed to push it to the back of his mind, instead going to greet his other table. He left one menu for his table in case they wanted dessert and walked away to put in next order in- his hips swaying along to War's  _ Why Can't We Be Friends? _ that the jukebox was playing.

"That was real smooth, Brian." Tyler said with a snort, wiping up the spilled coke that his werewolf pal had tipped over. Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed another handful of napkins, hoping that the mess on the floor wasn't too bad.“Shut up.” He grumbled when Tyler’s grin didn’t stop growing. “So I got distracted by a pretty face.”

“More like pretty ass.” Evan piped up, leaning out of his seat to check out the waiter with a sigh. “I don’t know, he is pretty cute.”

“I will eviscerate you in yer sleep, Vanoss.”

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

“Talk to him?” Brian squeaked. “Are ye crazy?”

"Just because Ohm has a boyfriend doesn't mean you can't look! He's like-" Scotty paused, waving his hands around as he tried to think of how to phrase it. "He's like a cake on display! Y'know?" 

They all laughed at the voice crack from their resident elf friend, the were hiding his face with his jacket.

“Anyone have any silver bullets? Might as well take meself out right now.” Brian grumbled, head perking up when Flo started to play a new song-  _ i hate u, i love u _ playing softly on the speakers. 

The werewolf groaned. “Stupid sentient jukebox.”

“Maybe show him those puppy dog eyes you’re giving us and he’ll dump Anthony.” Tyler reached over the counter, ruffling brown hair, and Brian let out a whine as the alpha of the pack patted him encouragingly."God, fuck you all."

"Someone say 'fucking'?" Ohm slid into the booth next to Scotty, giggling his signature giggle as he swiped Evan's discarded drink from the table and took a sip.

"We did, you perv." Tyler once again scoffed, pulling out his phone to check for any messages.

"Can y-y-you stop bothering my damn table, Ohm?! You got your own tables to-to-to-to deal with!"The gorgon darted a forked tongue out, tasting the remains of Evan’s milkshake. “My tables are fine, Jon. But fine, whatever, you fudgenugget.”

“You’re paying me for that sip of milkshake!” Evan called after him as he stood.

Ohm’s response was to flip the phoenix off, yelping when Jon slid past him and untied his apron. It gave Brian a  _ very _ nice view when he leaned down to pick up the scattered pens, and he could feel his table’s eyes on him as his face flushed.

Ohm sighed and turned his had, catching Brian's gaze in the process. The were ducked his head, peeping up just in time to spot Ohm walking away with a smile bright on his lips, and Brian thought he was staring at the goddamn sun. His moment was ruined of course, when there was a sudden excited exclamation of "Jiggly!" that rang throughout the diner, and they all looked over to where their resident gnome friend had entered, now with a mess of cute gorgon in his arms.

“Hey, cutie.” Anthony moved to hug his boyfriend, kissing his brow. “You ready to go?”

“Is it already time?” Ohm checked out the clock above the door. “Wow, it is. Hey um... Brock? Can I ask you a favor?" The gorgon wandered away to go see if his coworker would pick up his tables, leaving Anthony to wander over to the trouble table. 

"Sup, nerds.”

“Hey, Gnomeo.” Tyler held his hand up for a high five, Anthony gladly faking the high five to swoop under the werewolf’s arm and snag a couple of fries. 

“Where are you two going tonight?” Evan tapped idly at the table, leaving small burn marks behind. “I can taste the lovesickness in the air and I’m not even an incubus.”

“Taking Ohmie up to the Japanese Garden.” Spotting the abandoned drink, he quickly knocked it all back, slushy milkshake being left behind on his lips.

"Aw, that's cute." Scotty piped up, only to get a sharp kick to his shins from under the table- Brian glaring daggers at him. 

"He likes fish, what can I say? Just wanna keep my Nagini happy." He let out a full bellied laugh, and everyone could see the heart eyes behind mirrored sunglasses as Ohm approached, apron in hand. 

"All set to, Jigglesworth?"

"You bet, sweetcheeks."

They were definition of  _ high school sweethearts _ , destined to have a cute suburban life and 2.5 kids, maybe a dog too. 

It was lovely and sickening.

Brian watched them go with a glum face, eyes moving to train on the other waiter he didn’t know- well he did, sorta, but not by name. He could  _ smell _ the humanity on him, clogging up the diner. 

Flo switched to  _ Bad at Love _ by Halsey. 

“Lui, switch places with me.” Tyler ordered, and the witch looked up with a bored glance from where he had been doodling hexes into a napkin. 

“Why?”

“Because I can smell Brian’s stress, and probably could smell it from down the street.”

" _ Angst angst angst, _ " Evan chanted, laughing when Brian threw a handful of fries his way- just making more of a mess for whoever was closing the diner to clean.

Across said diner, Brock scowled, pretending he couldn't hear Flo starting up  _ Teenagers _ by My Chemical Romance.

"Edgy tonight, huh Flo?" He asked as he walked by the juke, patting her gently on the side. "I feel that."

A new song, the record scratching with the sudden abruptness.

_ I don't wanna be lonely no more- _

"Yeah, mood."

_ Call me when you need a friend- _

That brought a sad smile to his face. “You’re kinda my only friend, Flo.”

_ I know it gets hard sometimes- _

“Okay, we’re not having a deep conversation.” Brock stopped the jukebox before she could continue. “You’re just a hunk of magic metal, after all.”

The record scratch was comedic, offense radiating off of Flo in waves that just made Brock pat her again. 

“Sorry. You know I don’t mean it like that.”

_ You ain't never had a friend never had a friend- _

"Flo!" He giggled, rolling his eyes fondly as he walked back fo his tables. "I didn't know you had Disney on there. I know, I'll talk to you before I go." And for a moment, Brock was okay. People in the diner, a nice owner and Jukebox he could talk to. 

But going home at the end of a long shift was something he  _ wasn't _ looking forward to. It was as empty it could be, his parents off god knows where- leaving Brock to man the homefront. 

But he was just one kid, who desperately missed having a full house and the warmth that his parent brought with it.

_ Maybe, just maybe, _ he'd think about calling them tonight.

He nervously handled the phone in his hands, glaring at the recent contact list- it was still his parents, but a  _ month _ ago. 

Loneliness pressed into his body as he settled onto the couch, a gogurt clutched in his hand (he didn’t even like the things.)

He worried at the plastic as the dial tone rang, deflating with each ring it gave, so close to just hanging up before the voicemail until the line clicked- and Brock’s heart swelled at the voice that came through. 

“Boo Bear?”

"Mama?" He kept his voice soft, using the nickname he always called him Mom when he was sick. Curled up on the cold tile floor with yogurt long forgotten, aching for his house to be a home again. Even hearing his mom's voice brought nostalgia to his senses. 

"Sweetheart what's wrong?"

“I just... miss you guys.” He lamely said. “Can we just chat? I miss talking with you guys at dinner.”

“Oh, of course we can, Brock.” His mother said. “You should never feel ashamed for calling us, that’s why you have a phone.”

He pressed speaker phone so he didn’t have to hold it in his hands anymore, tucking them against himself. “I know, I’m just a senior this year, y’know?”

“Age has no correlation to whether or not you get lonely.” Michelle instructed, and Brock frowned as he heard her draw away from the phone for a second before she came back. “You’re on speaker phone, now, Boo Bear. Say hi to your father.”

"Hi, dad." He felt a little stupid when he waved, putting his hand back because  _ his parents couldn't see him _ . His father's voice was nice to hear after so long, Phil giving his signature, "Hey, Rocker" and Brock just  _ knew _ his dad was smiling. 

And it kind of broke him- broke Brock's resolve anyways, a small sniffle near deafening in the desolate kitchen.

"Are you guys coming home soon?"

There was a pause, Brock flipping onto his back when his parents didn’t answer right away. 

“I’m sorry, I know you have work-“

“Work isn’t as important as family.” His mom said softly, and Brock heard a small  _ clink _ . “We have been away for a while- almost all summer. School started this week for you, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’re bad excuses of parents for missing that.” There was a slight burst of static when his dad spoke, probably picking up the phone and moving it. “But we won’t miss your second week.”

  
  


"You're not bad- and you guys don't have to-"

"Rocker," His father's tone was stern, in that dad way- instantly shutting Brock up. But then it got softer, gentle even. "We'll be home by Friday at the latest, I promise bud." 

"With gifts! I'm not coming home to my only son empty handed." Michelle added, the smile plain as day in her voice.

He tried to stammer something else out but was shut down by his folks, and honestly? It was nice, knowing his parents cared.


	2. Always on my Mind

"I am not coming home empty handed, Jiggly." Ohm cocked his hip against the claw machine he was working, laughing brightly when Tyler sidled up beside his boyfriend to watch the madness unfold.

Should they be out this late on a Thursday night? Probably not. Were they at the local arcade and not studying? Most definitely.

Anthony placed his palm again the side of the glass. “Move it backwards.”

“I have been moving it backwards!” Ohm giggled. “I went too far back!”

“You’re aiming for the snake, right?”

“Of course I’m aiming for the snake.”

Tyler laughed at the both of them, sliding over to the next arcade game where Evan was. The phoenix had a game of DDR up, quickly bouncing between pads.

Marcel was sat on the other DDR pad, pressing his hands onto the buttons while Evan danced beside him.

"I'm still in my wraps, I ain't doing this exercise shit." The mummy said with a barked laugh, his score forgotten as he glanced over at Evan. "Damn bitch those moves? Fine as hell."

"Fuck off, Marcel!"

"I was complimenting you!"

“ _ Suuuuure _ you were.” Evan’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “And Tyler’s an omega wolf.”

The werewolf in question leaned against the rails, eyebrows flicking up. “Sounds like I’m an omega, that’s the most genuine thing I’ve heard from Marcel’s mouth.”

"Why you guys gotta bully me, huh?" The munny full on pouted, moving to sit criss cross apple sauce on the floor. "I am not afraid to curse you."

"I'M nOt afRaiD tO cuRSE yOu." Tyler made it a point to put his hands on his hips for the full meme effect. "Hey wait speaking of dead memes where's John and Casper the fuccboi ghost?"

Marcel shrugged, his bandages fluttering slightly with the action.

"Sucking blood, sucking dick. Fuck if I know, John's a horny bastard almost near a full moon."

“He’s always a horny bastard, full moon ain’t got shit on him.” Tyler brushed shaggy hair out of his eyes, flicking his gaze around the arcade. “Think anything exciting is gonna happen around here? I might head home if no one  _ at least _ rage quits a game.”

"Nogla's not here, so I don't think you'll have any luck with that." The phoenix hopped off of the game pad with a pant of breath, wiping his forehead idly with the back of his hand. He turned to face his tall friend, cheeks flushed from the game and heart still pounding. "Go home, man. I'll text you if anything exciting happens. Probably just gonna be Anthony and Ohm being cute and gross or whatever."

They both glanced over at the gorgon and gnome, rubbing noses and giggling to each other. 

“Eugh.” Tyler gagged. “Yeah, I’m ditching. See you losers tomorrow.”

“Bye bye TyTy!” Marcel mocked, getting a snarl in return as his friend stalked out. 

The town was somewhat busy, not quite the Friday rush he knew would come soon. A few cars honked pleasantly at him, familiar faces waving.

It was nice- still warm for the fall, a pleasant breeze wafting through their small town. The buildings passed by and soon became houses, Tyler choosing to stick to the sidewalks as the sun fell down to the horizon line. If he focused hard enough, he might be able to smell fresh bread baking from someone's house nearby. Too bad he didn't like rosemary, but that was just his uncultured opinion.

A car rumbled down the street, Tyler turning to look at the black Sudan that passed by, both windows rolled down to reveal a man and woman, the woman staring at him as they passed by. 

That was weird in itself, but the chill that spread down his back was even weirder, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up- and he was sure if he was transformed, he’d be running with his tail between his legs. 

They passed by, turning a corner, vanishing. Sky blue watched them before shaking himself out of his stupor, taking another whiff of the air. Rosemary, still.

Someone was definitely overseasoning their food but Tyler didn't care- just wanted to get home as soon as possible, maybe take a warm shower to soothe the shiver that still thrummed under his skin like frost. 

With a goal in mind he kept walking, picking up his pace until he was nearly sprinting but  _ god _ it felt good to let his instincts take over sometimes. 

The front door in his view was a sight like no other.

A gentle rap on the wood after he opened it gave him a mother’s hug, his mom tugging him to the kitchen. Her latest cooking attempt was pizza- this one didn’t seem too bad, and his dad walked in from the garage willing to try a bite. 

His family was a little off from other wolves around the block, having one human and one wolf for a parent, but he thought it was what made him Alpha. The human ability to empathize. 

  
  


“I feel a bit bad for leaving him alone for so long.” Michelle grabbed her bag from the bag, suitcase thudding onto the pavement. “Phil, dear, are we bad parents?”

"I think that bad parents wouldn't acknowledge that there was a problem," Her husband said carefully, making sure he had Rocker's gift as well as his own suitcase before he shut the trunk. "And they wouldn't be trying to correct it. I think we just got caught up in work. And in trying to make a better world for our son to live in we neglected him a bit. That is on us."

"Always so insightful, Phillip." Despite the teasing tone Michelle had a fond look in her eyes. "How good is that English major doing you, honey?"

"If I remember it was that same degree that got you to marry this old hunk of junk."

“Pot, kettle. You married me for my medieval history degree.” She leaned in for a quick kiss, old love never dying. “Shall we see our son?”

Phillip nodded, hazel eyes the same shade as Brock’s crinkling with warmth. “I miss my Rocker.”

The front door was unlocked, front porch bulb strong and bright in the evening. They slid through the door, commenting quietly to each other on how clean the place looked. 

It did- living room vacuumed, kitchen cleared. Almost like no one lived there. 

The feet pounding on the stairs proved that wrong.

The two parents were practically tackled in a hug- an arm wrapping around each of them. 

It used to be their legs; when Brock was little, the boy would always grab a hold of each of their legs when they got home from work. But then he got older, taller, and had to (quite literally) grow up. 

It seemed a lot of things have changed.

"You're  _ home _ ."

“We are.” Michelle stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his head. “And we’re staying for quite a bit this time. Found some work around town, can you believe it?”

He only hugged tighter in response, burying his face in between their shoulders. Phillip chuckled lightly, hand ruffling his son’s mohawk- that was new. He said as much. 

Brock pulled back with a slight blush. “You guys did say you were okay with me getting a different haircut.”

"My little punk," His mother cooed, her golden curls bobbing in his face for a moment before pulling back with a smile. "Let's get inside, I'm dying to use my kitchen again."

The front door fully closed, with it bringing  _ warmth _ \- even the presence of his folks was making Brock feel infinitely better, no longer alone in that big empty house with his big empty heart.

He was sat on the kitchen counter, legs kicking idly like he was a little kid again and his mom was going to make chocolate chip cookies. His father pulled out two wine glasses, reaching into the cooler they had brought with them.

“The one we got in Springville, Michi?” He questioned. She nodded, smiling brightly as she started dicing chicken.

Wine was server and Brock watched both his parents interact, picking up where they had left off the last time they were here so naturally.

"Mm-" His father put down his glass, covering his mouth with one hand before he swallowed. "And speaking of things we got in Springville-"

"Go get Boo Bear's gift." Michelle waved him off and gave him the go ahead, Phil ducking out of the room with the promise that Brock was going to love it.

  
  


And love it he did- delicately holding the small replica of the  _ Sword of Gryffindor _ .

Pure silver.

Sharp as glass.

“Where did you guys...?” He trailed off, tracing over the sword- more like a dagger, really, with its replica size.

“Found a wonderful metalsmith.” His mother explained. “And I know you, so don’t go worrying about the price; it is a present, after all.”

Brock snapped his mouth shut from where he had been opening it, sheepishly nodding. 

“We thought you might like a collectible that can’t be bought anywhere else.” His father raised his wineglass with his eyebrow, smiling slightly.

"Thank you," Brock turned it over in his hands a few times, mouth slightly open in awe. "It's perfect."

Michelle nodded from across the room, wiping her hands on her apron with a small smile gracing red-painted lips. 

"Well we knew Neville was your favorite..." Brock watched as she dumped the chicken in a pan, grabbing lemon and rosemary from the spice rack. "And Neville always protected his friends and family, right? From the deatheaters, the monsters."

“Even if he was a little scared sometimes.” Brock smiled. “What, think you two need protecting from death eaters?”

His mother flicked on the sink, washing her hands of remaining chicken juices before turning back to the pan, adding in the smallest bit of rosemary, lemon extract quick to follow. “Of course not, Boo Bear. It’s our job to protect you, not the other way around.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with saving the world behind the scenes.” His father reached over the counter to ruffle his hair. “Often, the true heroes don’t get the glory.”

"Well yeah," Brock smiled and fixed his hair when his dad was done, tbough the curls and frazzles hair still stayed for the most part. "Like firefighters? EMTs?"

"Exactly." The sound of the chicken simmering was a little loud but Brock still heard her, "But the kind of work that your father and I do is... maybe even more important." 

"Champ," Phil's wine glass was abandoned on the table, half filled with the sweet merlot. "There are dangerous people out there; dangerous  _ things _ , and your mother and I think you're old enough to know what we do. Even if it is a little scary."

“You guys are... business investors.” Brock said, confusion spiking. “That’s what your job is- how is that scary?”

His father’s finger trailed across the edge of the replica in Brock’s hand, tan skin and silver going nicely together. “We are business investors, that part’s true. But you need to know a bit more about the world before you know what we do.”

“What your father is trying to say, honey,” Michelle’s blonde curls bounced as she left the chicken to simmer. “Monsters are real. Vampires, ghosts, werewolves, all real.”

His parents must have seen the odd look in his eyes, because both his parents' worried gazes were on him.

Brock gripped the handle a little tighter.

"Rocker?"

"Boo bear? What's wrong?"

Brock opened his mouth before he realized he  _ could _ tell them everything. Overhearing conversations in the hall, at work. His gorgon coworker, the wolves he heard howling during a full moon. His classmates possibly were an assortment of undead, magical, or straight up monsters. He could never betray the trust and confidence of his parents, and with that Brock spilled  _ everything. _

_ Every last detail. _


	3. State of my Head

And when he was done, both parents leaned back with twin pensive expressions. Brock fingered the end of the silver dagger nervously at the glance they exchanged.

“I told you he would be perfect for the life.”

His father broke into a smile, familiar hazel eyes crinkling. “Of course you were right, Michi.”

“So,” Brock interrupted them both, body shaking with unknown anticipation. “I’m going to guess you hunt monsters?”

"Only the bad ones." His mother clarified, turning to tend to the stove. She craned her head to glance at Brock over her shoulder, blowing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "Which is most of them, unfortunately."

"How long?"

His father made a small noise, fingers drumming on the tabletop on thought. A quick look to his wife and a nod from her was all he needed.

"Since you were a baby. Your Mother's brother, Uncle Cam... God, he adored you. You probably don't remember him, Rocker." A sad look in both of their eyes, one that had Brock feeling upset too. "Attacked one night by those  _ things _ and he... never really recovered."

“What happened?” He didn’t care he was probably asking too many questions, being a bit of a brat- the warmth that stayed in his parents’s smiles made him feel welcome.

“Werewolves.” 

“He was bitten.” Michelle clarified sadly. “Poor Cam. Called me one night after the attack, shaking and sobbing because he woke up in a puddle of blood, someone’s body nearby.”

His father stood up, moving around the breakfast bar and to the fridge, pulling out an orange popsicle and handing it to Brock. It was a strange gesture, but one that soothed the nerves that had spiked. 

“Uncle Cam asked your mother to put him down. Then she tracked down the thing that had killed Cam and left a monster in its place. Killed it too.”

"Oh my god..." Brock was pretty speechless after that, nervous hands nearly crushing the popscicle stick between his fingers. Brock's father sighed and adjusted his glasses, sending a sad smile his wife's way.

"And well after that your mother wanted to make sure no one went through the same thing. No more families were supposed to be broken but..." A firm hand on his shoulder, Phil's hazel eyes mirrored near perfectly in his son's. "I guess we forgot about our family. And I'm  _ sorry _ Rocker. We did our best to come back but things got away from us."

“No, I- I understand.” Brock sucked at the edge of the popsicle in place of biting his lip. “You were doing your best to protect me from afar.”

“Don’t try to save us, Boo Bear.” His mother said softly, pulling the chicken out of the pan and onto a cookie sheet. “We know we messed up. We’re here to fix our mistakes and be better parents.”

And Brock smiled- truly  _ smiled _ , warmth filling his soul and ebbing away at the walls he had built, spilling into every dark nook and cranny. He smelled rosemary and orange creme, the combonation herby and citrusy and bright.

Brock would do anything to keep that feeling inside him.

He still had school the next day, and was tucked into bed by a mother with sad eyes and a father with familiar ones, but neither let the genuine smiles leave their faces as they kissed him on the forehead and flicked off his light. 

They’d given him a choice to make. 

“We’d love to have you on the team, Rocker.” His father said while following behind him up the stairs. “But we’re not going to force you into the life if you don’t want it. You still have school, and work, and college to think about.”

And so the second Friday of the school year passed by with little to no issue, Brock finding an abandoned hallway to eat lunch in as he doodled in notebooks. 

He had work after school as well, texting his parents he had made it as he walked in, smile brighter on his face than it had been the previous week.

And work, for a while, was good. He had a lot of shifts afterschool but that was fine, even if he did get home late to see his parents. For a few weeks it was kind of annoying that his coworkers dumped shifts on him, but he was nothing if not adaptable. 

It got colder, the warm remains of summer shifting into fall. October was rowdier, and Brock still hadn't given his mom or dad a decision yet- focusing instead on the things they told him to focus on.

But no colleges sprung out at him.

And work was starting to weigh down on him.

And school was just a place to eat lunch alone at.

And he made his final decision after being called in on a Saturday to cover for Jonathan, and all Brock was allowed to know was the boy was claiming ‘medical emergency’. Which was sucky in itself, but Brock put up with it. 

Table 6 was usually where Jon’s friends sat, and they came in as usual- leaving Brock to tend to them with grit teeth. Realistically, it should have been Ohm, but the gorgon was swamped with a table with two toddlers.

They weren't too bad- but obviously they wanted the waiter who wasn't Brock, and the teen just huffed and did his best to keep them satisfied. 

After dropping off a  _ vanilla _ milkshake ("You can't have chocolate? I made you a chocolate malt last week but go off") to the kid in leather, and Brock had just enough time when he turned to witness it.

A murder.

One of their milkshake glasses spilling nearly all of its contents onto Flo, glass breaking glass as the music suddenly cut out.

A breathless gasp ripped its way out of Brock’s chest, tucking the platter under his arm and staring at the murderer- a frazzled gorgon who stood frozen as stone as he stared at the mess. 

Flo sparked. The only noise in the diner now besides the slow drip of a strawberry milkshake.

Sark bustled out from the kitchen, lips pursed as he took in the death of the jukebox- the death of Brock’s only friend. 

(And maybe he was being dramatic about the machine, but that machine had been Brock’s only confidant for a summer.)

“Sark-“ Ohm started, turning around in a blind panic. The owner placed a calming hand on the gorgon’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, not the first time she’s been broken.”

Brock's heart torn in two- she had broken a few times, but never this badly- bad enough where Brock wasn't sure if she'd come back the same as she was. He dropped the tray and grabbed for a rag, hissing when his first swipe of the milkshake was filled with shards, but he was  _ not _ going to let her get any more damage.

"Brick-" Ohm started, "Dude, stop it'll be okay, Sark said the juke-"

"Brock. My name is  _ Brock. _ And her name is  _ Flo. _ "

“ _ Brock _ ,” Ohm said, over exaggerated to the point of sass. “Sark said  _ Flo _ -“

“I heard what Sark said.” Brock made another swipe, barely feeling the prick of glass in his fingers. “But I’m trying to stop her from getting  _ more _ damage.”

“You’re only going to hurt her more.”

“Brock.” Sark’s voice was casual, but held a warning tone under it. “Be kind to Ohm, this was a mistake.”

"I didn't say anything!" The waiter rounded on his boss with a blood and strawberry soaked rag in hand, tears obviously streaming down his face. "You always side with Ohm, it sucks! I know how to take care Flo, just- just- just let me do it! Gosh." 

He was sure he had the attention of the whole diner, embarrasment soaking into his bones. He turned back to the Juke and continued to wipe away melted frost and slush.

They left him alone after that, and Brock spent the rest of his shift stealing desperate glances at the clock- Jon’s friends staring at him from across the diner, disapproval written into their expressions. Leather jacket had the biggest frown, taking a sip of his vanilla milkshake with a scoff. 

Brock’s face heated further still, tears still dripping down ruddy cheeks until he wiped them desperately off and drug his feet to their table, taking empty cups and fry baskets without meeting their looks.

A hand gripped his wrist tightly when he moved to turn away, hazel flicking up to meet icy blue. 

“Be nice t’Ohm, it was obviously a mistake.” Leather jacket radiated annoyance, like he was disgusted at having to touch Brock, horrified to even look at him. 

Brock felt himself  _ snap _ as if from a distance, ripping his arm out of the grip and glaring furiously.

“Just because you two are monster buddies doesn’t make you any more right.”

He hung up his apron for the night soon after that, jumping into his car with a sob.

He drove straight home and ran up to his room, not even saying a word to either parent as he slammed the door to his room shut.

He spent a long time going through his things, needing something to do with his hands to stop them from shaking. Still bleeding and aching, he flipped through an old photobook, hazel eyes teary at the baby photos he saw. No friends, but a tall man with blonde hair and a kind smile, tossing him up in the air and carrying him around like he was the most precious thing in the world. A picture of the uncle he never knew pretending to drink tea at their tea party, squashed at a little plastic table. A tie dye hoodie, one that Brock knew he saw in his mother's closet.

He came downstairs dressed like sherbert, with an answer to give.

"I want to join the team." He announced, stuffing his hands in his pocket. His mother turned to look at him from where she was preparing cupcakes, his father whipping up the frosting.

"Rocker, are you okay?" His father dropped the hand mixer, his mother too shocked at his clothing change to ask questions. A hand drew closer to Brock's face, stained with bright blue food coloring, and Brock eagerly leaned into it.

"I want to join the team."

He grit his teeth when his parents exchanged worried glances, Phillip adjusting glasses nervously.

"Brock, is this a well thought out decision or a rash one?"

"Thought out." He said, taking a deep breath to keep himself from tearing up again. "I want to do something meaningful, t-to make sure families don't get broken apart." He thought back to Flo, as stupid as it was. Thought back to the monsters that wouldn't even give him the time of day because he wasn't a freak like them.

He thought back to the baby pictures, and how happy his uncle Fitz was. "Let me help you, please."

The strangling hug his father brought him into was a good hug, one that made him feel needed, and wanted, and loved, and  _ important _ in so many ways Brock couldn't describe as he hugged back, wrapping his arms around his dad and burying his face into his chest like he was a middle schooler.

"Welcome to the team, bud."

His mother soon joined them, Michelle pressing kisses to both of her boys with tears in her eyes. Proud and sad.

"You're going to do fantastic, Brock."

"I'll do my best," He muttered against his father's jacket, smelling chocolate cake and his mother's sweet perfume.


	4. Voices Carry (Couple Mix)

"I'll do my best," He repeated as Sark handed him the keys to his truck, Flo tightly packed away in the bed. "The mechanic on 7th, right?" 

"Uh huh." His boss still seemed a bit wary, eyes flicking back to the diner where Jon and Ohm were goofing around on such a slow shift. "Ohm has some... history with one of the kids who works there, and I don't think Jon could move Flo if he tried."

"Yeah." Brock ducked his head when Sark moved back to look at him, biting his lip nervously.

"You doing alright kiddo? We haven't really spoken since Flo broke."

_ Was broken _ . "Yeah, it was just a stressful day. I shouldn't have snapped."

His boss nodded, seemingly okay with the answer before instructing Brock to drive safely, patting the teen on the back and moving into the diner.

Brock stared after him for a second before shaking his head, opening the truck door and lifting himself inside, starting up the ignition.

The last radio station Sark had left up was a pop one, Imagine Dragon switching on in the middle of the song. It was one Brock knew pretty well, and softly sang along as he backed out of the parking lot.

" _ Your time will come if you wait for it, if you wait for it _ " He drummed his fingers on the wheel. " _ It's hard, believe me, I've tried, But I keep coming up short. _ "

He kept driving, a small smile on his lips as he passed by busy people on the street, shopping bags in hands and scarves around their necks. The window displays were filled with pumpkins and cobwebs for the upcoming holiday, and Brock thought maybe it was a little tacky- he was always more of a fan of Christmas anyways.

He kept singing until the mechanic and electronic repair shop- the radio quickly flipping to an oldies station to play  _ Hot blooded _ before tuning again just in time to play  _ Car Crazy Cutie _ by the Beach Boys.

He parked Sark's truck in the side parking lot, deciding not to move Flo until the mechanic told him to. Clutching the note Mr. Sark had written for him in one hand, truck keys in the other, he opened the greasy garage door into the shop.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of something burning- and indeed, something was, the teen at the counter idly flicking a blowtorch on and off until he spotted Brock.

He looked idly familiar, and Brock realized he was in his calculus class when he started to talk.

"Brock, right?" The southern twang that certainly didn't belong in this small town, a crooked smile and pretty dark eyes. And god, did it feel good to get recognized- Brock's smile honestly genuine as the man continued. "Snark called and said he'd be sending someone over- I'm glad its you."

"Snark?" Brock chuckled, setting the note down on the counter. "That's a new one."

"It's true." The teen poked at the paper before sighing up at the waiter, tan skin flushed and sweaty. "Seriously, it is good to see a familiar face. We don't really talk in class, feel a little cheated a cutie like you ignores me."

Brock flushed instantly, pink spreading up his cheeks with the passion of a wildfire, suddenly at a loss for words as the mechanic chuckled.

"I'm kidding." He winked. "Partially. Anyway, what do you have for me today, Brock?"

"I um," He gestured vaguely to outside the shop, where Sark's truck was parked. "Flo. I'm worried about her and I'm afriad she won't be herself when she- sorry." Brock's cheeks flushed even darker when he realized he was rambling on, and hoped the guy didn't think he was  _ too _ weird on how he addressed his jukebox.

"Don't apologize, angel."

He squeaked again. “Um. Okay, uh, she had strawberry milkshake spilled on her, I cleaned up most of it but I’m worried some more got in her wiring because she hasn’t turned on, and she was sparking.” He scratched at his neck when he realized he didn’t know the other guy’s name. 

Thank god for (figurative) angels like the  _ greased up god in front of him _ . “My name’s Luke, by the way. But you can call me anytime.”

It was the  _ lamest _ fucking pick up line ever, but it still made Brock smile.And Brock didn't seem too keen on going back to the diner, and Luke had insisted on Brock sticking around since he was a witness of the crime after all.

They got to talking, Luke far more of a flirt than he had any right to be; smelling like oil and sulfur (probably from the cars; Brock was never a car guy, what did he know?).

He helped the guy unscrew the jukebox open, the frown that stomped its way to his face quickly erased at the eye candy he got when Luke raised his arms, a very appealing strip of skin showing itself to Brock. 

“Have you been in Nightshade your whole life?” Luke asked. “Don’t remember seeing you around too much.”

Brock smiled somewhat grimly. “Lonely kid. Born and raised here.”

"Ain't that a mood." Luke mumbled- and Brock couldn't help the small bark of laughter that tumbled from his lips. "Only child too?"

"Uh huh."

"Distant parents that are more involved in their work than you?"

Brock leaned against the workbench with a small sigh, nodding.

"Right on the nose."

“Irritating ex who can’t get over themselves?”

Brock huffed a small laugh. “Never actually been in a relationship. Unless you count my imaginary friend Sally when I was 5, who I promptly realized could never love me back and never talked to her again.”

“Damn, you really just leaving Sally on unread?” Luke reaches around Brock to the table with tools on it. “Hope you don’t do the same to me.”

“Wha-“ But already a number was being scribbled on his hand in sharpie, the mechanic looking up at him after he had recapped the pen. 

“Hope I’m not being too forward. You just seem like a pretty fuckin swell guy, and we seem to have a lot in common. Might want to stick together.”

Brock felt a smile and blush creep up on his face amd quickly ducked it so Luke couldn't see- but the teem just grinned back with a pretty smile. They worked on Flo together, Luke explaining what he was doing as he cleaned off wires and replaced them- and damn if he wasn't a real charmer.

Brock let out a small gasp when Luke plugger Flo into the wall to test her out, record starting up instantly. 

_ Cause they sleep with a gun, and keep an eye on you son, so they can watch all the things you do. _

Brock didn’t even want to try to think about what Flo meant by  _ that _ , too elated to have his best friend back he threw his arms around metal plating, then warm flesh. 

“Thankyouthankyou _ thankyou _ -“

Luke chuckled, eyes black for a moment when he blinked- not that Brock could see with his face buried in flannel and an oil-stained tank top.

"You're welcome, doll."

Brock pulled away with literal stars in his eyes, blushing and smiling and giggling like a schoolboy discovering a new crush.

Which he technically was.

But he deflated a little bit when he realized with Flo fixed he would have to leave, hand trailing awkwardly over where he had left it on Luke's hand.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked quietly.

Luke sent him a wink, practically oozing confidence when he said, "Sit next to me in calc"- and Brock certainly wasn't going to say no; it wasn't everyday he was talked to nicely by a cute guy.

Flo was loaded back into the truck, Brock promising to plug her back in as soon as he could- and he was off, heartbeat almost as erratic as Flo's song choices.

Almost.

The diner was empty when he made it back, the only person remaining Mr. Sark in one of the booths, browsing his iPad casually until he heard the rumble of his own truck. He grinned and waved at Brock through the clean glass, pointing to the door, where a bright yellow trolley waited outside.

Flo was slid out of the truck and onto the trolley, Brock hitting the small metal kickstand to start pushing her, humming along to Disney songs as he opened the door.

"Well? I take it she's all good to go?" His boss called.

"All set." Brock practically twirled into the diner, a stark contrast to his melancholy self just a few hours prior. "Sounds like a dream, too." Flo was put back in her rightful spot, thoughts of dark eyes and stromg arms on his mind as he plugged her in. 

"You good there kid?" 

And Brock smiled, everything in his life starting to look up for once; a purpose, a possible romance, a home filled with the two people he loved the most.

_ Once Upon A Dream _ chased him out of the diner with high hopes, the soft Disney song adequate to his current mood as he danced across the parking lot with an imaginary dance partner. Young, in love, and waltzing into his living room with a confident "I'm gay," that had his mother assuring him there was nothing wrong with that, his father telling him they hunted real monsters.

"You look lovesick, sweetie." Michelle laughed as he slid across the floor in an impromptu twirl. "Who's the lucky young man?"

He pulled his mother up to dance with for a moment- kind of thankful for the ballroom classes he took as a kid as he spun her over to where Phil was sat.

"Luke. He fixed the joy in my life." He saw the amusement and confusion on his parents faces when he faced them again. "Er, my jukebox. He fixed my jukebox." Brock clarified, only a little embarassed. "I'm feeling good about him, I really am."

"That's great, Rocker." His father swung his mother around, hazel eyes crinkling in happiness. "When do we get to meet him?"

"Dad!" Brock stopped dancing to cover his eyes in embarrassment- or as his parents liked to call it sometimes, embarrusment. "I only learned his name today."

"So? I knew your mother for a minute before she was being introduced to your grandparents."

Blonde curls bounced as his mother slapped Phil's chest lightly. "I was your waitress, Phillip Barrus."

"In any case," Phil said, adjusting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose with a smile. "Go on a few dates, bring the guy home so we can meet him. You're a charmer, I'm sure he'll be head over heels for you, kiddo."

"Thank you, Dad." Brock pressed a kiss to his mom's cheek. "I have some homework I'm struggling on, are either of you two good at quadratic functions that involve quadratic formula?"

"I'm an English major, but I could probably help."

They spent the rest of the night hunched over the dining table, working out math problems together as his mother watched HGTV.


	5. Take On Me

Ohm was having a pretty decent shift all things considered- with his hair free and getting pretty good tips and compliments from his tables.

Halloween, and he had picked up a shift since he was gonna be out all night with his friends anyways. It was just him and Brock- Jon out with his brother or something. He said he would stop in later, though.

And Ohm's friends (and boyfriend) were sat in his section, mostly dressed as themselves or as monster versions of some person or another.

The few of them that couldn't have their true form out (Evan and the werewolves) were dressed in goofy costume makeup, Tyler dressed in a zombie costume with Evan as Shark Boy ("For Delirous!) and Brian as the Terminator.

His quiet coworker had stuck a pair of antlers on his head and called it good, earning a few snickers from Ohm's friends as they ordered food.

"Is he wearing reindeer antlers?" Lui asked, his enormous witchy hat dipping over his eyes.

"Dude. Respect Halloween." John yawned, exposing  _ very _ pointy teeth as he slung an arm around Smiity.

"Halloween is not everyone's holiday man." A very Legolas dresses Scotty asked, "I, for example, hate Halloween and I want Christmas already goddamit."

"Elf." Marcel coughed, earning snickers from the rest of the peanut gallery.

"Fuck off."

Ohm dropped off drinks at the right time, grinning brightly as he snagged a kiss from his Ash Ketchum dressed boyfriend who sat at the edge of the booth.

"Lemme take a  _ Pikachu _ , Ohmie."

"Oh?" Ohm giggled, lowering his sunglasses- eyes closed tightly. "Is there a  _ Chansey _ you won't turn to stone?"

"Maybe I want to turn to stone-  _ Harden _ is my favorite move."

"Ye two are gonna make me sick." Brian declared, cracking up the two lovers. "Seriously, do ye get horny off of being saps?""

The gorgon slid his sunglasses back up, snakes nibbling at the plastic frames and tugging at his ears. A forked tongue darted between Ohm's lips before he grinned again, waggling eyebrows at Brian.

"I dunno,  _ Terroriser _ , you seem to be the one getting horny-"

The resounding  _ screech _ from the rest of the table drew every eye in the diner, the teenagers screaming in disgust and appreciation for Ohm.

The waiter took a bow and snagged another kiss from Anthony as a small consulation prize, grinning like the cat who got the cream as he watched Brian slowly slide under the table and out of view.

"My god I love you, woman." Anthony teased, slinging an arm around Ohm's apron clad waist. A perfect time for Flo to blare  _ Love Stinks _ , to which the gorgon rounded immediately on the jukebox with furrowed brows.

"I said I'm sorry!"

But the song kept playing, and Ohm's eyes were drawn to the door, where a familiar face walked in.

Jon, first, blue scales shimmering brightly on his neck as he bounded into the diner, dragging a tan, tall, and  _ utterly _ gorgeous demon behind him.

Ohm's lips thinned.

"Nagini?" Anthony asked worriedly, twisting in the booth to see who walked in. "Oh, fuck."

Evan had his hand half raised to beckon Jon over but a quick slap from Nogla had him putting it down real quick since things were still... terse with Ohm's ex.

"It's fine," Ohm grit out, knowing he'd have to face  _ him _ again sooner or later. And honestly, it was fine- maybe he and Luke could patch their bridge up after all this time- if the demon was willing to come in to visit him on Halloween of all days.

But he wasn't there for Ohm.

No, Luke crossed the diner to the other waiter, Brock's face lighting up like a thousand and one Christmas lights as Cartoonz leaned in to press a kiss to a flushed cheek.

Even across the diner, Ohm could hear the sultry " _ Hello, darling _ ."

_ Darling _ . That used to be his nickname.

"Hi, Luther." Brock giggled back, eyes flicking up to the little feathery halo on a stick above Luke's head. "I like your costume."

"I like yours. Are you Bambi?"

The smile that broke across the teen's face was blinding and happy. "Yes! No one's gotten it yet!"

To that, Luke grinned and wrapped an arm around Brock's waist, fingers toying with the apron strings as a giggly Jon wandered over to harass his older brother.

"No one has the expertise I do-"

"I-I-I-I- wouldn't count binge watching Disney movies as-as  _ expertise _ -"

"I would." Brock offered, and the mermaid scoffed.

"Of course y-y-you would."

Luke flicked his brother in the forehead, nodding over in the booth's direction. "Go say hi to your friends, let me flirt with my boyfriend."

Jon rolled his eyes, strolling across the diner to plop himself down in the booth, Luke taking the opportunity to place warm hands under the apron.

"Luther!" Brock protested, but he started giggling when those callused hands started to tickle him.

" _ Luther _ ," Ohm mocked quietly, a small sneer on his face as he scribbled down Jon's order, the blue ink a bit smeared as he slammed his notepad shut. He looked down to see a few worried glances, Anthony with the worst one of them all.

"You uh, okay there babe?"

"I'm fine." The gorgon huffed, but did his best to soften his tone and expression- leaning down to press a kiss omto Anthony's forehead where the hat didn't cover.

Tyler picked the wrong time as usual to pipe up.

"You seemed a little jealous, dude."

"No jealous- irrationally mad, I guess."

"That's the definition of jealously." The were chuckled, taking a sip of grape soda. "Ohmie's  _ jea-lousss _ ."

"Shut the fuck up." Anthony snapped suddenly, grabbing Ohm's hand. "You... you aren't jealous, are you?"

Sharp teeth worried at plump lips as Ohm glanced over to the new couple, before sagging. "No. Just pissed."

"I didn't come over here to-to-to-to talk about my damned brother!" Jon, who had been (oddly) silent piped up, waving his arms wildly around to get the attention of the table. "I want my chicky nuggets, Ohm."

"We don't have chicky nuggets, you ate them all." Ohm deadpanned, and Jonathan pouted, throwing himself onto the table dramatically.

"Where the fuck is t-t-the hoocie?"

"Found him." The gorgon went back to peeking looks at the set of lovers, Brock now pressed against Flo with a giggly expression. "Unless you mean Brian."

The whimper under their table was the only response, Jon peeking under the messy tabletop with an unimpressed huff."You mutt, come up and sit with us." 

A semi-transformed Brian nipped at him- mostly sharp teeth, and ears sticking out from his curly locks- looking wildly out of place from him Terminator makeup.

Jon let him be for the moment and sat up, gently nudging Tyler and making a very obvious gesture to the floor.

Ohm ignore his friends- thankful for his reflective lenses so he could sneak looks without getting caught- anger and a quiet rage settling in his heart at the drawled  _ sugar, darlin', sweetheart, angel _ .

Luke drug his thumb over Brock's lip, chuckling softly when Brock's strained voice escaped.

"I still have to work."

"What a shame."

"Luther." Brock put a hand against his boyfriend's chest. "Let me finish up with my tables then I can take you to meet my parents."

"Oh, we're already at the parents stage?" The fake halo bobbed as Luke stepped back, sweeping his hands to Brock's tables (who looked  _ far _ too eager at their waiter's love life.) "Finish up, shug. I'll be catching up with some old friends."

Ohm froze when Luke turned and made a beeline for them, hands in his pockets and that insufferable swagger radiating off of him as he slid into the booth- right next to Anthony.

"Sup, fuckers?"

He got a chorus of mumbled greetings, but only returned one.

"Hello, Luke."

"Ooo,  _ Luke _ ." The demon grinned. "So formal, Ohm. What's wrong, heart made of stone?"

"I'll take off the sunglasses, don't tempt me." It was mostly anger, hidden behind a thick wall of coldness that Ohm threw into his tone. "Why are you here?"

Luke shrugged, a hand reaching out to snag Jon's drink (with only slight protest). Brock's tables were still focused on the gossip.

"I thought we could at least be amicable." Luke set the shake down after a small sip. "And to be fair, I have not done a single thing wrong."

"Except my coworker."

Luke smirked idly, a smile that set Ohm's cold blood on fire.

"Angel's with me of his own free will, Ohmie. Is it that hard to believe someone could love me when you don't?"

"Yes."

"Goddamn." Luke kicked idly under the table, freezing when he made contact with something that gave a sharp whimper. "The fuck?"

He peeked under the table, dodging the snapping teeth that aimed for his face and rocketing back up to the group of monsters.

"Tyler, control your pack."

The were in question shrugged, seemingly indifferent as he shoveled oversalted french fries into his mouth. 

"He's in a mood, probably for the same reason you are."

"Makes sense." The demon stood a bit abruptly- as if sensing his slow approaching boyfriend, tentative steps and an unsure smile on his freckled face.

"Luther?"

"Almost done, babe. My bike's out front if you wanna wait for me."

The human glanced between the tense expressions around the table, nodding slowly and backing away, disappearing into the night quickly.

Every eye turned back to Luke, who leaned a casual arm on Ohm like it was nothing, like that simple movement didn't scream arrogance.

"Listen," Luke drawled, not looking at the gnome who was ready to throwdown. "I actually gotta take this shit seriously- so don't give my Brock a hard time, okay?" 

And he was off- walking like the owned the place, boots clunking on the checkered floor and leaving the barest hint of smoke in his wake.

Ohm snapped his pen in half.

"He did  _ not _ just come in here and try to make  _ me _ look like the crazy ex!"

“I think he did.” Anthony looked like he had half a mind to storm after the demon, but settled for grabbing a napkin and wiping the splattered ink off of Ohm. “Jon, your brother is an asshole.”

“T-Tell me about it.” Jon muttered. “I need a ride ho-ho-home no-now.”

"Like you were planning on going home tonight." Scotty said, obviously trying to cheer up the table from its awkward state. "It's Halloween! We're gonna stay out all night and eat candy till we puke- just like every year."

"Are we a little old for that?" 

"No." The answer slipped from the elves lips with a big grin. "No we are not. C'mon! Forget about that guy, Ohm. You can plot revenge later."

The gorgon took a deep breath, hand still shaking with fury as Anthony dabbed at spilled ink. 

“If it makes you feel better,” Tyler piped up, still chomping down on fries, “You’ll get to see Brian chase squirrels.”

That brought a small smile to Ohm’s face, crouching down next to the table in a disguise of talking to his friends- really holding his hand out for Brian to sniff and pet fluffy ears. 

“Okay, you have me sold.”

The half turned were curled up a bit tighter under the table, his face hidden as Ohm scratched behind his ears- occasionally whimpering until Ohm finally got back up. 

"I'm gonna go do one last sweep of my tables, I'll be back." 

He sounded a bit bitter still which made Anthony's heart clench, but he still smiled at his boyfriend anyways and hoped Ohm wouldn't do anything irrational.

They were lucky he didn’t, all tables still breathing flesh and not stone when he came back with a hoodie in his hands to give to Brian, the were graciously accepting it and tugging the hood over his ears, leather jacket going on over it. If Tyler noticed Brian take a deep whiff of the fabric, he didn’t say anything, just helped drag him out of the diner. 

Halloween would be fun if they had anything to say about it.


End file.
